The Plot Ideas Inside My Mind
by LGreymark
Summary: A collation of all those annoying plot ideas that won't leave me alone. Or just scenes that amuse or interest me. rated for safety and future chapters potentially containing smutty one shots.
1. Chapter 1

The plot ideas inside my mind

An: This is the standard plot bunnies thread as they're called, need to get these down on electronic paper. They are unbeta'd and will stay that way purely so that I don't have to run them through the beta process each time I want to post one, these are just for me to get my thoughts down. I very purposefully left the theme/genre and pairings section blank but these will all be Harry Potter one shots with possible additional chapters added if I'm feeling game. Occasionally I might turn one of these into a short fic. As for length, some may be quite long, others extremely short. I often get ideas for individual scenes or maybe even just a line of dialogue with a situation that I want to expand on. Now without further ado our first one-shot.

-:-

Harry Potter and the Titans

An: I got the idea for this one shot watching a 'top ten biggest video game bosses' and seeing the god of war 3 Kronos fight. The idea of Harry as an Auror fighting a titan stuck in my head. In this one shot Harry is in his early twenties with Draco as his Auror partner (Don't ask me why -.-), it uses all the same rules of sorcery in my other fic.

-:-

For the most part Harry Potter led a pretty normal life, he went to work, he did his job, and he came home and kissed his wife, ate dinner and read the nightly owl from his son. Went to bed, rinse, and repeat. Recently however he found himself landing in hotter and hotter water, and today it seemed, he couldn't help but drag his Auror partner Draco Malfoy into the mix with him.

The had been sent to Greece as aids to the Greek government in dealing with something of a national crisis, Some nut-job dark wizard had been releasing the ancient seals on the old mythological giants and they had been wreaking havoc up and down the country side of Greece. Truthfully it hadn't been all that difficult, back in the day of ancient Greece Sorcery didn't exist and the giants hadn't developed magically resistant hides as a result, apparently ancient Greek wizards had a penchant for finishing all their battles with swords and spears.

Today started off normally enough, high up in the craggy cliffs of northern Greece they had just put down the latest of the giants when suddenly the ground trembled beneath them. Harry caught a questioning glance from Draco but shook his head unknowingly. The trembling only increased and soon fissures were splitting the earth, quickly casting a seismology charm Harry determined that it wasn't an earthquake and looking across at Draco he saw the same bewildered expression that he felt on his own face.  
"Time to go I think Potter."

The terse sentence roused Harry from his stupor and he turned and dashed back towards the of the containment ward. Then the earth erupted around them. _Something _massive punched out of the ground in a titanic spire of what looked like grey rock. Harry was nearly caught in the shockwave of dirt and pebbles that blasted out and had to shield himself rapidly to avoid being turned to Swiss cheese. Glancing across he saw Draco in a similar predicament next to another pair of spires. Abruptly Harry felt the earth shifting beneath him, rising in a steep incline that threatened to topple him off his feet. Panicking slightly he wrenched at the magic holding the containment ward up so that he could apparate and after yelling a retreat suggestion to Draco, apparated about sixty meters away. A moment later and the blond haired wizard popped up next to him looking with wide eyes towards the spectacle they were witnessing.

It happened quickly, far more quickly than Harry would have thought possible for something that gigantic. Limb by limb an immense humanoid figure _climbed_ out of the earth, hundreds of meters tall and made from what appeared to be some kind of rock. Harry realised with a start that the spires they had been seeing were the creature's fingers. And the incline was its palm as it thrust it's hand out of the rocky ground.

The two Aurors had not been idle, Draco had already sent his patronus to the Greek ministry of magic, Harry's to the British. It was a somewhat futile gesture on Harry's part, if this thing wanted to kill them it would. The raven haired wizard felt a tap on his shoulder, turning he saw Draco's wide eyes.  
"Remember what we were told about this mission? Some whacko has been reawakening the old Greek myths, Giants, Cyclops's a Hydra. What if this is a titan?"

Harry turned his eyes skyward to the colossal figure that was now looking south towards modern Greece. In a dazed fashion Harry considered the fact that the international statute of Secrecy was probably blown way the hell open. He turned to Draco  
"So what the hell can we do? That thing's legs are so big it could probably outpace us even if we apparate."

Draco was looking at the titan with a mixture of speculation and trepidation  
"Do you think it's even noticed us?"

Harry's reply was cut off abruptly as the Titan lifted its leg to make one enormous stride. It was terrifyingly fast. Weren't things that big supposed to be slow and clumsy? Rather it seemed to be able to move as rapidly as Harry could unaided by magic. The two wizards had to apparate out of the way of one gigantic foot as it landed, the sole several dozen square meters of rocky flesh.

Draco looked fearfully towards the plateau beneath them as the Giant took another massive step.  
"If we don't do something all of Greece will be destroyed."  
Harry looked at him incredulously  
"What in Merlin's name are we supposed to do about that? Its eye is bigger than my house!"

Draco looked at him oddly  
"You're still the most powerful wizard in magical Britain right?"  
Harry shot him an exasperated look  
"Really? We're going to talk about _now_?"

Draco stepped forwards and shook his shoulders even as the titan stepped forwards again, seemingly taking it's time going down the cliff face.  
"Throw a curse or something at it! Sorcery even, you of all people might be able to do something to stop it."

Harry looked at the titan and with an amount of bravery that surprised him said to Draco.  
"Make an emergency portkey, go to the Akademy and get as many of the Greek Aurors as you can, I don't know what I'll be able to do against this thing, but whatever I can do it won't be much. And if you get out of this alive, and I don't, tell Hermione I love her okay?

That said Harry squared his shoulders and shrugged off the bemused look from his partner. He wasn't going to get two shots at this. Looking down at the elder wand in his hand he grinned, if ever there was a time to unleash it's full power it was now. With a twist, he apparated again.

-:-

The titan wasn't taking it's time anymore, now on the flat it was moving across the country side at a prodigious rate and it took harry several snap apparitions to catch up to it. When he did however he went straight into action. Even after hundreds of hours of testing Harry still hadn't found a sorcel that was more efficient for straight explosive force than the blasting sorcel he invented as a teenager. So that was what he used. Snapping his wand in several quick motions he fired two dozen of the sorcels at the Titan's ankle. To his amazement the sorcels bit deep, shattering the stony flesh with every impact and gouging deep holes in the Titan's ankle. Clearly even the Titans didn't develop magically resistant hides.

With a start Harry realized that despite his efforts the spells had barely scratched the surface of the Titan's ankle, and then it got angry, Harry was reminded why it was a terrible idea to piss off a Titan.

-:-

The Titan tipped its head back and roared. The force that came frim it's titanic mouth was incredible and Harry watched, amazed, as a massive hole was gouged in the clouds above the Titan's head with the force of its ululation. Then it turned around and looked down, all of a sudden Harry felt tiny, he couldn't see the Titan's eyes so high up but he knew that it had fixed it's stare unerringly on him. The impacts of its feet as it turned nearly threw him to the ground with the force of it.

He had only seconds to move as the Titan lifted its gigantic foot and then _forced_ it plummeting down towards him to squash him with a force untold. In a panic he apparated away from the Titan again only to realize how he could win this fight, maybe. The Titan's foot sank into the ground up to the knee as its incredible weight was swallowed up by the soft earth. With an almost comical expression on its gigantic craggy face the Titan pitched forwards and tried to brace its impact with its hands only to have them too sink into the dirt. With nary a deep breath to steady himself Harry did something really, really stupid: He apparated onto the Titan.

Casting a quick smart stick charm to his auror boots to let him walk over the Titan without falling Harry took stock of his location. He hadn't been particularly picky with his aim and now realized that he was perched on the Titan's shoulder, and apparently it had noticed as he was now looking up into one gigantic eye.

The look on the Titan's face was something akin to annoyance, and mixed in with rage and arrogance. Clearly the Titan underestimated him, or was he overestimating himself? He didn't give it any more time to think as he began barraging the titan with sorcels, pulping its face with a hail of magic that left Harry feeling drained. He threw every bit of his prodigious energy into that one salvo and taking the advantage where he saw it. It was barely enough. Apparently the Titan's face was just as 'soft' as the rest of it and was unresisting to magical force. Holes were ripped into its cheeks showing the insides of its rocky mouth, one eye popped showing pebbles everywhere and the Titan's nose and jaw became riddled with pockmarks the size of a troll.

Up until now Harry hadn't seen the Titan move in anger and when it did, it was only briefly. With speed that Harry didn't even know existed the Titan wrenched its hand out of the earth and swatted Harry from its shoulder. As he flew through the air harry thought grimly that in a second or two he could probably see his house.

-:-

AN2: Yeah, I know, weak ending, but who cares? It was just an idea. By the way, this isn't taking time out of my normal update schedule for World of Deceit, expect the next chapter in a few days.

Thanks for reading and other shenanigans  
LGreymark


	2. Chapter 2

AN: As per usual I own nothing to do with the Harry Potter universe, if I did; I wouldn't have shipped Hermione with Ron Freaking Weasley

AN2: I was reading a fiction about something totally unrelated and this scene came to me in its entirety, it's short and it wouldn't have fit in my main story for reasons that will become patently obvious, but damnit it was awesome in my head and I had to write it down. Some pretty heavy imagery though, be warned.

-:-

Harry Potter and the Final Battle: The power he knows not

Hogwarts burned. Flames of dark magic lit the night sky as they fed off the stone walls of the ancient castle. The dead lay all around, students, teachers, death eaters, and loved ones. A single boy, not even yet twenty years of age, knelt in the desolate courtyard of the ruined school. Cradled in his arms lay the love of his life, her doe eyes cold and glassy in death, tear tracks on her cheeks. Her body was unmarred save for a handful of minor scratches, the killing curse after all left no mark.

He wept, his eyes pouring salty lamentations over the body of his beloved, the wedding ring on her finger not four days used to its new resting place. His mind felt empty, hollow, as though all light had faded from the world, and maybe it had. The darkness of predawn gripped the school, a mere five hours the sum total of the battle past, and fourteen meters away lay the body of the last death eater to fall, a nameless recruit with barely the power for the killing curse, but Hermione, stricken with fatigue, hadn't been able to dodge in time.

He had avenged her.

A dry scream wracked from his throat as his head tilted back, his howl was like a beast, his shaggy hair hanging limp and his wife's form draped over his arms.

"Enough Harry Potter"

The maddening sound of countless voices overlapping one another reached Harry's ears, the three words that brought him crashing back to earth. He refused to give him the satisfaction of a quick reply however and tenderly laid his wife down on the cobblestones, a dry kiss on her cold lips the last effort he could spare for the woman who had made his life worth living.

"Face me"

Harry did, he had been planning on it anyway. He looked up at the creature Tom Riddle had become and spat at the ground, his dray throat unable to produce saliva but the intent was clear. Riddle's mouth curled in a victorious smirk.

"You see Harry Potter; love means nothing, for it is fragile, weak, and useless."

"No"

He forced the word out through his parched throat, through cracked lips that bled at the effort.

"No? But do you not cradle that Mudbloods corpse in your arms, not a living mudblood, no, but a dead one?"

"Love isn't fragile."

His throat protested at the effort but Harry spoke, he spoke in defence of the woman he loved, in defence of his friends, in defence of all those who had fallen protecting their own friends and loved ones. Riddle seemed content to let him speak.

"It's strong and all consuming, it's passion and it's fervour. It's a calm sense of completeness that fills your soul with joy."

He struck out, shapeless sorcery lancing from his wand at the murderous, craven, coward. An invisible barrier caught the spell but he didn't let up, his voice rising in pitch and timbre even as his wand danced firing a rising tide of magic into his foe who began now to move, flickering about like a shadow, sorceries passing through thin air where once there had been a dark wizard.

"It's the fire in your heart that makes you thank every deity ever discovered that you live to see another day with those whom you love. It's a warm drink on a cold day, or a cold breeze in the heat of summer. It's respite, its sanctuary."

He was yelling now, his throat screaming silently in protest but he didn't care. This man… this creature, had taken everything from him, his parents, his godfather, his friends, his wife, his unborn child, and those yet to be conceived. Voldemort was fighting back, spells and sorceries lancing back but they all fell short, flickering into nonexistence meters from Harry's body

"It's what takes an orphan, broken by his family, and turns him into a man. It's what takes a girl, scorned by those who envy her intelligence, and turns her into a woman. It's what takes a family, with too many sons and too little money and pulls it through year after year. It's what takes a new-born babe and gives it a name, a life, a purpose.

It is Love that created me, love that has cared for me, it has driven me, shaped me, moulded me into the man that stands against you now you worthless _swine_, and you know _nothing_ of it."

With those final words he ran forwards, still casting like a madman and Voldemort launched himself forwards to meet him in a cloud of black magic. With a shapeless roar Harry lunged forwards at the last second, his wand thrusting forwards like a sword, a blade of white light extending from it.

His thrust was parried by a spell and he swung again seeking to drive this blade of pure magic into Voldemort's heart. They moved about each other Voldemort firing sorcery in close quarters Harry alternately parrying Riddle's magic and making thrusts and swings of his own which Voldemort did his best to knock aside or dodge.

Naught but a dozen blows exchanged and something changed, there was a tiny, incremental _shift_ in the magic at play and Harry had the upper hand. Lashing out his foot caught the dark lord in the mid-section sprawling him out on the cobblestones and Harry leapt after him, wings of golden light spreading from his shoulders in a moment of pure glory the boy who lived, the chosen one, turned into an avenging angel as he hung suspended at the apex of his leap for half a second, pure love driving his magic as he sought to rid the world of its stain and a single word was loosed from his lips in a battle cry.

"HERMIONE!"

Then he plummeted down, Voldemort had regained his sense and his eyes widened in shock as Harry bore down upon him and with a sickening sound of parting flesh and bone Harry's sorcerous sword buried itself a foot deep in the cobblestones, transfixing Voldemort's heart. They stayed motionless for a moment, staring into each other's eyes, Harry refusing to look away until the light had left his foe's sight for the last time. Then, when Riddle's eyes were glassy at last Harry coughed, blood speckling the face of the dead Dark Lord.

Looking down he saw a blade of black magic transfixing his own chest and even as he watched it dissipated, fading with its master's magic, utterly spent the young wizard collapsed sideways, rolling off his foe, his golden wings splaying out on the cobbles, as his own blade flickered out and his wand clattered to the ground, loosed from nerveless fingers. He coughed again as his eyes found those of his fallen wife across the courtyard his lips mouthed her name once more, his hand reaching out across the space between them as if to caress her skin one last time, before at long last the light left his eyes as well.

-:-

AN3: Like I said, short, but awesome. I think if I could engineer a story to come to this conclusion this would be my ultimate last fight between Harry and Voldemort. Sort of like the perfect storm of writing. Anyhoo, I just wanted to get that out there.

LGreymark


	3. Chapter 3

AN: I own nothing, but by Merlin I wish this was canon sometimes

AN2: This one shot has been rattling around in my head for a while… Scott Pilgrim versus the world comes to mind if you need something to compare it to before reading. It's very short, but I had a lot of fun writing it.

-:-

Harry Potter and the Order of Sound

Dark clouds rolled in over the castle and rain started pouring down from the heavens as Voldemort's army stormed its way up the rapidly muddying front path. Just as they approached the doors of the castle a violent throbbing bass note rocked the entire grounds and the castle doors were blown clean off their hinges, spinning away into the massed ranks of death eaters.

In the doorway stood a solitary figure dressed in tight leather and bearing an electric bass guitar. Long black shaggy hair hung down in front of their face the fret board of the guitar was still smoking from the force of the concussion it had just unleashed. Stunned into silence for a moment the attacking force halted its charge and stood stock still in confusion and the faintest traces of fear.

The figure raised a one hand in the classic rocker's horns for a moment before bringing it down across the guitar once more, and from that guitar came a sound so incredibly metal that the ears of every death eater immediately began to bleed.

The metallic silver instrument started to pulse out notes in physical waves that battered against the massed ranks of darkness like buffets of gale force wind. The notes started low and throbbing in a baritone pitch but slowly rose to a trembling bass rumble. Then from the darkness of the castle another figure came forwards even as the death eaters were still trying to stand against the magical power of the first rocker.

The second figure was dressed in leather too, but this one had a shock of buzz cut red hair and was wielding an electric guitar. He too brought his hand down on his instrument and a distorted melodic beat of speed and power blasted forth from the magical instrument and all around the courtyard the death eaters began clutching at their ears and falling to the ground in awe of the incredibly wicked tones.

A copy of the second rocker descended from the ceiling of the great hall behind a set of drums and without further ado began pounding out a furious and rapid rhythm that flattened the death eaters to the ground. Only Voldemort himself was still standing in the face of such awesome brutality. Finally a female figure strode from the entrance hall, her dark brown hair falling down her back in elegant curls, thigh high leather boots adorned her feet over black tights and her bust threatened to burst forth from the corset that was only just barely holding it in check.

She ran her hand over the bassist's cheek before bringing up one fingerless black gloved hand holding a mic stand and planted it at her feet before loosing the most incredibly sexy sound anyone had ever heard. Her voice was dirty and coarse as it crooned filthy things into the mic. That was as much as Voldemort's gay mind could handle and he was obliterated into a oily black smear on the cobbles as the power of muggle music flooded the courtyard.

From that day forth there would only be one band the magical world ever listened to on the wireless again, and that would be The Order of Sound.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: [Insert huffy disclaimer here]

AN2: I've been experimenting with different character archetypes lately and I wanted to explore what Harry and Hermione would be like with an alignment swap. There's going to be a lot of stuff going on in this scene and a ton of it isn't going to make sense, sorry for that, this is more a writing exercise than anything else.

It's short, but damn fun to write.

-:-

Harry and Hermione Potter and the Ballroom

The air was humid, yet tense. Hot, yet frigid with pressure.

The two spun about the dance floor like all the other couples, elegant, stately and powerful. There was something different about these two though; a darkness that seemed to flow from them like a heady musk. It was intoxicating, alluring, and dangerous.

The ball was a masquerade, the young man's mask was a blank slate; white and featureless save for a slight protrusion for his nose and two holes for his burning emerald eyes. The young woman's mask was identical, except for a single blood red tear drop beneath the left eye. Unlike most of the dancers their masks were tied behind their heads with white ribbons that were concealed under their various hairdos and freed both their hands for movement.

They drew several curious and admiring eyes with their easy grace, power and fluidity on the dance floor, not to mention their lean, attractive bodies. Despite the attention they remained aloof, dancing in their own world together with the fluid but staccato motions of the tango. She was wearing a long bottle green dress with a thigh high slit in the figure hugging fabric, his a pair of black trousers and a simple, yet expensive, white shirt under a snugly fitted black suit jacket; his bow tie the colour match to his partner's outfit.

The young man's eyes were darting from beneath his mask, identifying as many of the attendees as he could. The young woman's eyes were closed, trusting in her partner completely to guide her as she let her consciousness roam through the ballroom, seeking the magic of her quarry. Both of them found their target at the same time and an unspoken word of agreement passed between them before the tempo of their dance changed abruptly.

Gone was the grace and fluidity, their motions were now choppy and passionate as they let go of their task for the time being and simply enjoyed one another, dancing in the moment for the simple joy of holding their partner in their arms. If the young man's eyes glowed slightly, or the young woman's hair began to float about her, no one noticed.

The song ended and they moved away from the dance floor together, it was synchronous, fluid, and impeccable; then they disappeared into the crowd.

-:-

The two moved quickly, parting from physical contact but remaining no more than five feet apart as they wended through the crowd with casual ease. Their quarry had not spotted them, but was heading towards the balcony.

She got there first and engaged the middle aged man with platinum blonde hair in polite discussion; a scathing discourse on the folly of a house elf she had executed the day before, a fiction, but he didn't know that.

Her voice was lilting and soft, smooth like molten chocolate or satin on naked skin. She invaded his personal space confidently, her hand coming up to play with his tie casually as she spoke, he didn't seem to mind.

The young man was two steps behind her and while she distracted their mark he watched the door, a discreet notice-me-not charm over the lintel insuring their privacy.

Back out on the balcony the young woman had gotten much closer to the man and had allowed him to wrap an arm about her waist, slightly lower than the rules of proprietary would normally allow. She didn't really mind over much, it was the last feel he would ever cop.

The conversation became sultry and she allowed him to approach her lips with his, an adulterous kiss breaking the patterns of speech, broken only by a soft gasp from the man. She had moved closer to him, wrapping one arm around his neck, the other was between them, fisted against his chest. Crimson bloomed on his white cotton shirt, though no one would ever see it.

She broke the kiss, moving closer and aligning her full red lips with the shell of his ear, whispering softly to him, shushing him with quite words, imploring him to make no sound.

"Shhh, shhh, its okay, its okay; you're already dead."

He slumped against her and she supported his weight easily before pitching him backwards over the railing whereupon he plunged into the waters of the sea below. The young woman spat after him, getting the taste of alcohol and bad oral hygiene out of her mouth before freshening it with a charm. The young man came inside the doorway and looked into her dark, chocolaty eyes. She tentatively approached him, her gaze seeking absolution for what she had just done.

His hand came up to her chin and the thumb of it brushed across her lips possessively; as if to wipe away the last evidence of her crime. Then he moved forwards into her personal space, much like she had to the corpse earlier, and claimed her lips with a confident kiss. Owning her body with a few strokes of his tongue and a possessive hand at her chin that swept behind her neck where it gripped firmly.

She gasped into his mouth and pressed herself against him, desiring his attention like a man dying of thirst desires even the barest hint of water. His other hand moved to her hip, holding her in place, punishing her with lack of contact while he reaffirmed his claim on her mouth. After a moment he pulled back and gazed into her eyes; noting the contrition and desperation there.

She had killed a man tonight, but all she cared about was that he forgive her for kissing him.

He did, he always did.

But he didn't think Lucius Malfoy ever would.

If he could.


	5. Chapter 5

An: *Insert standard huffy disclaimer here*

-:-

If I take your hand, will you vanish?

Light was a luxury, not something to be squandered. When light had pierced deep into the dusty prison beneath the stairs Harry had a use for it. A book he wanted to read, a bug he wanted to examine, a wound he wanted to probe.

It was never enough, and even now, years later, it was still never enough. Darkness of vision had slowly become darkness of mind; with a single bright spot keeping him from going completely blind. Free of his prison, but locked in another of his own creation, able to see, but blind to life's portents. Hope had blossomed, only to be leapt upon, and torn to many bloody shreds by the wolves who act like sheep.

Like the serpent coiled around the world tree's base, so too did one who he let within his trust sap at his will to live; the venomous teeth of his mind injecting horrid ichor into the life of he who lived. Harry cast him aside, and sought his own path. Life became bleak, filled with light, and yet dull, flat, grey, without definition or curio to make its surface a wonder to behold, the only wonder was that of life itself, dissatisfied with its own mien.

Days went by where he had no resolve; curled in a ball upon the bed he called his own, tears of dejection turning the blood of sacrifice on his cheeks to ichor. Those days became weeks, where he was forced to live among the populace and push a brave face to the fore whilst his broken one turned inwards. Weeks became months where he jumped through the hoops of society blindly without fervour and filled with torpor fit to grind his world to a halt.

But there was one bright spot: One person in the whole of existence who could drag him from his self-inflicted prison. One who could wrench apart the bars and break the shackles of his mind's creation. She reached out to him. Her hand like a constellation of hope, dotted with stars of potential so bright he had to turn away for fear of being burned.

And turn away he did, making her hand wait for his attention though it never wavered, not once, in it's offer. He began to wonder if his bright spot was there just to torment him, surely she was not enough to cleanse his world of darkness? Then she must be another torture device of the mind, sent to give hope without succour, claims without evidence, promises without resolve, and as such torment without respite.

But he could not turn her away, because she was the one who kept him going even in harshest times, even when all else was like the tar of sorrow itself, she was there, a slightly too-bright glow of hope, ringed by a corona of comfort that his eyes had to strain to see.

-:-

One day, amidst the mire of days without end, was a day built upon a lie. A wedding built of deceit and trickery, coercion and false promises. She was not his bright spot, but she looked red in the darkness, something less bright, that he could look at without going blind, but still different enough to interest him.

His body felt frail, he knew not what she saw when she looked at him, and he saw little when he looked at her past condemnation if she knew what his innermost thoughts were.

And then _she_ was there, breaking apart the lies, battering at the semblance of truth until it fell apart like the poorly constructed house of cards that it was. Suddenly after staring at redness in the darkness for so long _her_ brightness didn't seem so bright anymore. But the hand was still there; stretched out in the self-same offer of support, hope, comfort, even love.

For the first time he could look at that hand, really examine what it had to offer without going blind from the incredible difference in tone. He saw her passion for him, her understanding for his internal mien, her promises, built with hardened steel fit to batter down the doors of depression that locked him in his mind.

He reached out, hoping beyond hope that she would not disappear, hoping that she was who she claimed to be, hoping he was not dooming himself to a life without even her brightness to keep him sane, hoping she was not another false projection of his tormented mind.

He left behind his not-black ex fiancé, he left behind her family, he left behind his life, he threw it away blindly as he reached for that hand, hoping it would not vanish, hoping she was true.

-:-

AN2: Very, very short, but I wanted to write this in respect for the darkness in his life I often feel Harry has to wade through in canon. Even the people around him use him for their own ends, people who profess to be his friend cut him down at the knees if he deviates from the path they set out for him. You can ascribe the identity of his light to whomever you wish, and I guess his not-black companion. But I know who they are to me, and it really should be quite obvious.

AN3: I'm having to rewrite the latest (in progress) chapter of 'Lies' the concept is strong but I'm having trouble with the execution, I estimate eta being a couple of days.


End file.
